


like two magnets

by lonelyheartsclub



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, a tiny weeny bit of angst maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelyheartsclub/pseuds/lonelyheartsclub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has a little bit of trouble figuring out his feelings for Harry. He works it out in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like two magnets

**Author's Note:**

> woah, it's been a while. bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.
> 
> so i've had this idea for quite a long time, but i've never been able to put it into words until now. and this is the product of it. obviously. i should probably shut up and let you—you know—read.
> 
> have fun! :*

So, here’s the thing: Harry and Louis are very affectionate towards each other. They always have been, ever since Louis jumped into Harry’s arms on X-Factor, which he — to this very day — can’t explain. He could’ve sprung his emotions on any of the other three strangers he was being put into a band with, but he didn’t. He was drawn to Harry, right from the very beginning. The phrase “like two magnets” has always made Louis cringe, but for once in his life he feels it applies — suddenly understands the weight behind it. Harry’s the weight. The anchor.

They’re sprawled out on the couch, Louis’ feet propped up on Harry’s lap, the feeling of Harry stroking his thumb across his ankle sending shock waves through his — the same shock waves he’s been feeling for months now, whenever Harry brushes up against him or he tells an admittedly boring story in his increasingly deep voice that rolls like ocean waves and wraps Louis up in it like a warm, fuzzy blanket.

“Harry,” Louis says, his name feeling thick on his tongue.

It’s really stuffy. There’s a window right behind him he could open to let some fresh air in. He can’t be arsed to move.

“Yeah?” Harry answers, questioning but not quite as he swipes his thumb across his ankle again. Once. Twice.

“I love you, you know that?”

Louis immediately feels his heart rate pick up, which confuses him. Why should it be doing that? He’s said the very same thing countless times to Harry over the year that Louis’ known him.

“’Course I know. Always.”

He feels a sense of ease wash over him as he turns back to face the telly, away from Harry’s too soft, too gentle eyes, and lets the aged news anchor drone on about the woes of modern technology as he feels the organ in his chest go faster than ever.

~*~

Louis doesn’t like the supermarket. Harry would tell you it’s because he can’t reach anything and gets pissy about it. Harry would be wrong.

There are many things he doesn’t like about the place. It’s crowded a lot of the time, Harry insists on buying way too many fruits and veggies, and — _ why _ is the cereal up so  _ high _ ?

“It’s okay that you’re small, Lou. Embrace it.”

“I can’t embrace it. Not if I want my honour and dignity to remain intact.”

He tries again, jumping up and swiping for the Coco Pops, looking an awful lot like a petulant kitten. He sets them off like dice in motion, about five boxes crashing to the ground.

“Fuck yes!” he hisses in triumph, an old lady with an overabundance of jam in her cart looking disdainfully at him. “Who’s the small one now?”

“You are, of course.”

Louis would usually pinch him for making such a remark, but since he’s in a good mood from the mighty feat of retrieving his favourite breakfast food from the highest shelf, he bear hugs him and tells him he loves him.

Harry returns the favour.

~*~

It’s a lads night. They’re all settling in with their beers and Zayn’s got his pack of cigarettes out and it feels like home. Except for Harry’s not being there, which makes it considerably less like home.

“Out with Caroline again, is he?” Niall snorts.

“When is he not? Bloody whipped, if you ask me.” Smoke curls around Zayn as he opens his mouth.

They all laugh, but Louis is silent, which he knows is unusual for him. Unusual enough that Liam calls him out on it. Of course it’s Liam.

“I’m fine, mate, really,” Louis almost snaps, way harsher than he meant the words to come out as.

The air is tense after that, and even though they switch onto a different topic, Louis still feels slightly sick and like he’s letting everyone’s mood down, so he leaves the room. Somehow they know not to follow him.

~*~

Later that night, much too late in Louis’ opinion, all the boys having already left, Harry shows up.

Louis waits for Harry to pass in front of his door to get to his own room, and when he does, Louis calls out for him to come and cuddle. Which is a thing they’d taken to doing not that long ago. In fact, it’s more common than not for Harry to fall asleep in Louis’ bed in the act, and for Louis to wake up with an arm draped across his face. He should probably mind more than he does.

When Harry is sufficiently under the covers with Louis tucked under his arm, Louis speaks. Says it for what feels like the hundredth time in the past week, and imagines it must be annoying Harry to no end. He doesn’t say anything about it, but of course he wouldn’t. Which is such an irritatingly Harry thing to do.

“I love you.”

Harry’s head presses down on top of Louis’, and he says it as well. Tells him he loves him too — doesn’t miss a beat, even. But it’s not enough. Why isn’t it enough?

Louis huffs and turns over, away from the warmth of Harry. A personal heater, that boy is. Louis hates that he loves it.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks, sounding so concerned that it makes Louis’ stomach drop, and he immediately feels terrible, turning back around to face Harry.

After several awkward seconds, Louis sighs and lets it out.

“Don’t you feel it too?”

“Feel what?”

And that’s just it. Harry doesn’t feel it; doesn’t feel whatever Louis’ feeling even though he doesn’t know what that feeling is, and it’s driving him crazy.

“When I look at you, when I touch you, when you talk to me about what happened in your day, I get this — sensation, I guess you could say? — in the pit of my stomach, and it only ever happens when I’m around you. You’re my best friend, and I’m so bloody lost as to why this is going on, and I could really use some insight right about now.” 

Louis sits up in bed and scrubs a hand across his face frustratedly. He doesn’t want to look at Harry and see his reaction to his humiliating outburst, but he does anyway on instinct, and simply watches as a series of emotions Louis can’t quite get a handle on flitter across Harry’s face, before he meets Louis’ eyes.

“Say it,” Harry tells him, and Louis gets even more angry, because  _ say what _ ? Does he wanna hear that entire speech again? Was it entertaining for him, watching Louis unravel while he just laid there in the infuriating way he does, all long and lean with one leg out of the sheets. It’s probably exactly what Caroline gets to see too.

“Say what?” Louis doesn’t even bother toning it down, throwing his arms out in exasperation.

“That you love me.”

“Of course I love you, you idiot. I tell you all the time.”

“No,” Harry says slowly, and Louis kind of wants to murder him, “say it the right way. In the way you really mean.”

“You think I don’t mean it? Well I’m sorry to say that I do love you, Harry Styles. I love you, I love you, I love you, I’m in love — ”

Louis stops dead in his tracks. He did not just let what he thought he just said out of his mouth. What just came out of his mouth shouldn’t be feeling this right. Harry shouldn’t be wearing the shit-eating grin that he is.

“I’m in love with you too, Louis Tomlinson.”

“Don’t you say that,” Louis says, starting to hit his arm, “Don’t. You. Fucking. Say — ”

Harry grabs his hand mid-slap and yanks him down on top of him, and it’s not a gentle movement at all, but when their lips meet it feels like the whole world comes to a stop. It’s incredible how many cheesy metaphors Louis now relates to.

He feels his breath catch in his throat, everything zeroing in to Harry’s hand on his thigh; the soft press of their mouths, soft and unrushed; how they melt together like they’re meant to be.

And it’s in that moment that it hits Louis hard and unforgivingly. He  _ is _ in love. He’s in love with this gangly-limbed, curly-headed 17-year-old boy who he first stumbled into in a  _ bathroom _ of all things. This is the person he fell head over heels for without even realising it. He wants to spend the rest of his life with Harry. He wants to travel the world with him, experience new things with him, grow  _ old _ with him. Maybe he’s getting ahead of himself, but it sure doesn’t feel that way, and Louis’ always been one to trust his gut. 

He whispers such things out between kisses, feeling more alive than he ever has, and he’s damn sure Harry feels the same, if the way he claims he’s been waiting for him to realise is anything to go by.

“Will we be enough?” Louis murmurs, pressing his hand over Harry’s heart, feeling it thump erratically beneath it.

There’s so much left to discuss and sort out, but he couldn’t care less right now. The only thing that matters is how Harry feels beneath him, solid and comforting. Probably the only thing that ever will from here on out.

“We’ll be enough.”

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: kindofsharethat


End file.
